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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28706385">One More Hour</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/optimizedclay/pseuds/optimizedclay'>optimizedclay</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Love, M/M, Tame Impala - Freeform, bus ride, no beta we die like men</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:28:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>831</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28706385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/optimizedclay/pseuds/optimizedclay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's only one more hour until George sees Dream and this bus ride is far too long.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>One More Hour</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this while listening to One More Hour by Tame Impala, so listen to that if you want!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One more hour.</p>
<p>The world around George was silent, but his head was screaming. It was only one more hour. He desperately wished he picked the flight directly to Orlando. The man glanced down at his outfit of joggers and a t-shirt and wished he could have put in more effort.</p>
<p>It was only one more hour.</p>
<p>His leg bounced as he glanced at his surroundings. The dirty seats and gentle yellow light made George too aware of what was happening. He was visiting Dream. In Florida. He glanced down at his phone and checked the clock for the fifth time this minute. </p>
<p>9:02. 9:02. 9:02. 9:02. 9:02. </p>
<p>It was easy for George to hide himself online. He only had to show his face. No one knew.</p>
<p>No One Knew, Not Even Dream.</p>
<p>George was barely even paying attention to the podcast that was droning in his ears. He could only think about how he was on a bus to Dream’s house right now. He would be there in one hour, 10:13 to be exact. He had seen Dream’s face, but had Dream really seen his? Patchy facial hair, soft skin, and a round face. George was scared, but how could he hide it? </p>
<p>He adjusted his mask, grabbed a small bag and walked to the bathroom. As he passed by the other passengers he saw their distraction, work, movies, talking with loved ones. He wished he was distracted.</p>
<p>He locked the door as the faint smell of human waste filled his senses. The faint light cast shadows down his face as he studied his complexion in the mirror. He should’ve shaven again today. He took as big of a step back as he could and examined his appearance. He shook his head and opened the bag.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His back ached as he sat in the unforgiving seat, he regretted changing so soon. </p>
<p>9:34. 9:34. 9:34. 9:34. 9:34.</p>
<p>The minutes crawled by as he glanced to the dark Florida landscape. The soft light of the bus illuminated George’s face as he slipped into his own thoughts. He pictured himself with Dream laying and stargazing in the fields zooming past. Both laying in the back of Dream’s pickup truck, just enjoying the moment. A light pink color scattered across his face.</p>
<p>A buzz from his pocket pulled him back to the bus. George opened his phone, looking for a distraction, only to see a message.</p>
<p>Hardened Clay: got an eta? youve been quiet</p>
<p>His heart picked up pace, why hadn’t he thought to text Dream? He was picking him up at the bus station after all. George sent him a quick reply and closed his phone. George thought back to when they had first started to get closer and George showed Dream his face. Dream thought he looked like a girl. George laughed it off and remembered hanging up holding back tears. He had tried so hard. Would Dream now think he looked like a woman? They hadn’t talked about it since.</p>
<p>One more hour.</p>
<p>That’s all it was. It should be so easy.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>George looked out his window to see the lights of the city looming closer and closer. This is it, he thought, this is Orlando. He heard the rumble of other passengers grabbing their belongings, people rubbing their eyes and getting up. All George wanted was to be done, the only uncertainty was whether he wanted to be done with the bus ride or with Florida. </p>
<p>“We will be arriving in five minutes,” the driver spoke over the intercom.</p>
<p>George couldn’t stand it. He zipped up his backpack and played with the straps with a spotify playlist blasting in his ear. He couldn’t think at all. The bus turned into the station and rumbled to a stop. George shot out of his seat and grabbed his bag from the overhead compartment. He shuffled off the bus.</p>
<p>The idling of buses roared around him as he searched for the exit. He opened his phone to give his appearance one last look. His hair was a mess but no amount of flattening would do any good. Dream said he would be parked in the pickup loop, but George didn’t see him. He paced back and forth across the crumbling sidewalk as other passengers filed out the door to get in their respective vehicle. He glanced at his phone again, it was 10:20 and Dream was late. George stood leaning against his suitcase as he glanced around the parking lot. </p>
<p>Not Dream. Not Dream. Not Dream. Not Dream. </p>
<p>George desperately started scrolling through Twitter, looking for anything to occupy his mind. His thoughts were rushing past, but the landscape around him was so slow. </p>
<p>One more minute. One more minute. One more minute. One more minute. </p>
<p>Suddenly, a hand was on his shoulder. </p>
<p>“George?”</p>
<p>George whipped around to see a tall blond man staring back at him. His heart stopped.</p>
<p>“Dream?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you read this, thank you so much! I honestly threw this together in an hour and it's my first story. LMAO whatever. If y'all want more or have suggestions let me know!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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